


Softly

by Draikinator



Category: Toad Patrol
Genre: Post Season 1, does not factor in season 2, which i havent seen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7425763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draikinator/pseuds/Draikinator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Panther Cap is determined to ensure all late born toadlets are given safe pssage to the fairy ring, that no toadlet should suffer the fear of death like he did. Toad Hallow's politics are taking a turn for the positive under new leadership. All in all, things are looking up.</p><p>Until they're not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Softly

__There’s a breeze on your skin, warm still, but betrayed by the chill undertones of the coming cold season. You take in a deep breath of the forest’s air. You’ve always liked it more- Toad Hallow is wonderful, as perfect you were always told, but there’s something very liberating about the cool forest air mixed with the ever present scent and sense of danger. You’ll be glad to get home, though. You miss your siblings.

You listen to the little shrieks of the toadlets as they play tag along the bank of the mire, giggling and calling eachother and you wonder if you were that carefree, once. Probably yes, but it never lasted. You’re glad they get to be. You’re glad you chose this job. It’s a good sound, children playing while Earth Star strums his lute, playing something light and airy, about trees and sunshine and not your sister, for once.

You notice the toadlet’s volume decrease sharply and you tip your cap back, sitting up on the rock you were resting against. There’s a figure crawling from the deep wet- small, very small. You shuffle up to your feet and hop down, stretching your staticcy sleeping legs as you make your way toward her.

“Hey! Hi!” You call, voice still raspy. The other toadlets are giving her a wide berth, which is unusual for them. They’re usually very excited to meet new toadlets. “Hold on!” You say, stepping through the soft, sticky marsh mud. She shakes her arm, sending little flurries of muck toward you. She reminds you of yourself, in an odd way, beanpole thin, probably still sporting the remainder of her tail, small enough you could probably carry her in one arm. You go to help her wipe the mud off her face and see why the other toadlets seem so nervous; her eyes, bright, inquisitive and curious, are red-pink, and beneath the murk, her skin is a sort of pale yellowish-white. Very unusual.

“Exotek,” she says, a thousand miles away, staring through you. You frown.

“Exotek?” You ask. She shakes her head.

“I- um, I’m sorry, um, am I late?”

You give her a lopsided smile and nod, “Yeah, but not too late yet. No worries, little one.”

“White,” she says.

“White?” You ask.

“Little White, not little one,” she corrects and you laugh.

“Little White, okay. Well, I’m Panther Cap, and this is Earth Star,” you say, stepping aside and letting Earth Star take your place with a chunk of knitted moss to finish helping her clean off. You look back at the group, and it seems like their curiousity is starting to overwhelm their apprehension, because they’re starting to crowd.

“Why’re your eyes like that??” Asks Coral, a little toadlet girl with an acorn cap.

“You’re not very yellow,” Velvet Foot adds, hiding behind her. You frown. Little White cocks her head at them.

“I dunno,” she says, “I just am, I guess.”

That seems to satisfy them and they’re all over her like they always are with new siblings, tugging her into games they want to teach her, trying to introduce themselves all at once. You dig around in your satchel until you find a plain cloak; because you’re especially worried about her pale skin beneath the sun, and pass it to her before they pull her back into the grass to play. She smiles and pulls it on over her shirt.

You look up at the sky. The blue is starting to fade.

“Earth Star?” You ask. Earth Star shifts to look at you, “We should pack up.”

“You’re probably right,” he sighs, “as usual. It feels like the seasons get shorter every time.”

You sigh through your nose and shrug, before you turn back to the group of toadlets.

“Alright everyone!” You call, “It’s getting dark, so we’re heading back to the haven for the night! We’ll leave for the fairy ring at first light.”

There’s a little chorus of chittering excitement as they tumble over one another to get back to you and their things, piled up along the brim of the dry stones in the sun.

The little one, fresh from the murky darkness, worries you. It’s not unusual for a toadlet to mumble or stammer, and you shouldn’t give whatever it was she said any thought- and yet, it worries you, though you don’t know why. There’s an itching at the back of your head, in the part of you that remembers being a treespeaker, the part of you that understands the curious voice of the thundertrees that you no longer hear.

Something is wrong. You suspect she knows what it is. Your suspicions are rarely misplaced.

You shoulder your satchel and tug your cap back and away from your eyes, taking the lead down the path while Earth Star backs up the rear. 


End file.
